Devil in The Church
by Simone Robinson
Summary: "It was as if the devil himself watched from the shadows as the church was defiled. His fingertips felt numb as they ran across the banister. His muscles protested as he lowered himself to the ground, one knee brushing the floor, before he slid into the pew. A cloak of reverence did not belong on a sinner." What happens when one commits the unspeakable? Is there forgiveness?


**A/N: This piece is inspired by the acoustic track of "This is Gonna Hurt" by Sixx: A.M**

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 **Devil in the Church**

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It was as if the devil himself watched from the shadows as the church was defiled. His fingertips felt numb as they ran across the banister. Dust collected under the pads of his fingers, and he wondered when last anyone had cleaned. His muscles protested as he lowered himself to the ground, one knee brushing the floor, before he slid into the pew. A cloak of reverence did not belong on a sinner, but he did it anyway.

The cold pressed against his skin and sent goose-bumps along his skin, evidence of a chill that would not leave his bones. It clung to him, a foe that he could not reach. Leonardo doubted that he would ever feel warm again.

He wondered if being cold was inevitable. If, regardless of chance, circumstance or charged emotional situations, the cool, calm logic that seemed to emit from him was something that could never be changed. Even his moments of charged emotional potency were tainted by an air of not _really_ feeling.

But feel he did. Right now his heart was ablaze, an icy lake set aflame- cold, cold and burning.

And something else, something just beneath the surface that he refused to acknowledge. Because if he did, he might crack, and Leonardo was infallible. He had to be.

The hall rung with the ghosts of hymns and good intentions, lost amongst the dust that danced across his vision. He squinted, feeling it work its way into his eyes, blinding his vision. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he didn't want to see, but that would be cowardly, and Leonardo was _not_ cowardly.

He blinked the dust from his eyes and stared into the darkness.

Sometimes, the most heinous crimes were simply a means to an end. Leonardo knew this. The hard calls often fell on his shoulders. The hard calls were what kept their family alive, safe, and hidden. It was worth the sin that stained his hands and had him returning to the church, to the scene of the crime, hours later. Their family was safe for the moment, home again, thanks to the information his sins had gleaned. His family was safe, and he was free to return to the quiet solitude of the church.

Left alone with nothing but ghosts, he murmured something beneath his breath, something like a prayer, a plea. Leonardo no longer knew. _Was he praying for forgiveness?_ He shook his head. He was not so foolish to think that he still owned that right. He rubbed his hands against his thighs, feeling the residue of blood stick to his skin. He would be unable to get it off with just water. It would take ages of scrubbing beneath the running tap, head bowed as his soul wrenched apart from the force of his crime. If to kill someone was to rip the soul in two, then Leonardo's soul was long beyond repair.

He kept his secrets in the shadows as the numbness slowly closed in on his body, leaving nothing but the ache in his mind, pressure in his chest. The air leaked out of his posture and he sunk further onto his knees, the pew catching his fall with the nurturing touch of the church.

 _It could be worse._

The thought rung in his ears, a pathetic attempt at comfort. _It could be worse. It could be worse. It could be worse._

It could be worse. His brother could still be in the hands of the enemy. They could have taken ages to find him only for irrefutable damage to be done. His brother could have lost his mind, his sanity, his life. If they had been only second later, the whirring saw would have severed a limb, never to be recovered again. It could be worse, and Leonardo did not regret his choices.

But he hated them.

This killed him, because only he knew the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Raph had a good idea, of course. He'd seen the look his brother had given him as he returned with the information. Raph knew that horrific things sometimes needed to be done for the sake of the clan.

But even he didn't know every strike, every mark, every scream.

 _Leo would keep that in the shadows._

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he stared at the crumpled form on the floor, watching the blood seep into the wood and stain the floor with shame and sin. This man- dead by his hand, bearing the marks of a long and gruelling interrogation. Usually, even hardened criminals gave after a few moments. Usually, it didn't have to go quite this far.

Leonardo clenched his fists, but the action felt empty.

It had gone too far this time. The very foundations of the church seemed to shake, as the hallowed ground rebelled against his crimes. What was done was done. There was no going back.

Leonardo bowed his head.

 _And from the shadows, the devil laughed._


End file.
